


Le Duc et La Prêtresse

by InerrantErotica



Category: Crusader Kings 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InerrantErotica/pseuds/InerrantErotica
Summary: “Love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails.”A Crusader Kings III inspired story.
Kudos: 2





	Le Duc et La Prêtresse

The known world in 1378 was a strange place. Swedish Vikings had settled in Iberia, splitting the peninsula between three faiths. Africa was (briefly) united under one empire before fragmenting. A Zoroastrian Persia rose from the ashes in the Mideast.

In the twelfth century, Britannia fell under the dominion of Catharism and Pope Innocent VI called all of Christendom to several crusades, the last of which ended a year ago. It was the death knell of that heresy and the advent of many a Christian lord’s ambition.

Among the victorious crusaders was one Duke Guerin Borgogne of Valois and Somerset. House Borgogne’s words were “God watch me.” He had crossed the English channel and carved out a nice chunk of the isle for himself and his descendents… whenever they would come.

Guerin had been wedded to the Lady Beatrice Abelard for nearly a decade with no progeny to show for it. She was a comely, if not somewhat frail woman. She shunned the bedchamber and was ever diligent and pious- a fitting match to the Duke’s temperament if not for his dynastic prospects.

The Duke himself was a tall and imposing man of the faith, black bearded and blue eyed. All could see that he had the bearing of a warrior, and all who knew him understood him to be a man of devotion- zealous and stubborn in equal measure.

Catharism had long been entrenched in Britannia, so it was not uncommon for the common folk to rise up in revolt- especially as the various crusader kingdoms warred incessantly with one another over the isle.

Away from Hampshire castle, Guerin had marched a fortnight to meet the rebels on the field of battle. After dispatching the rabble, his retinue took shelter in a nearby town named Yeovil. The levies disbanded back to their homes and he and his men-at-arms spent the night lodging as guests in Hendford manor.

His knights’ revelry ill-suited a man so pious as Guerin. He found the company of some of his men odious, but did not wish to sour their mood. Indeed, they had shed blood in his name that day. The Duke left his finer apparel at the manor and made himself scarce from the celebrations.

Guerin remembered well his house’s motto, “God watch me.” He took to the streets of Yeovil by himself, without fear or apprehension.

The town was quite lonely as the sun fell over the horizon and the moon rose up into the great black sky above. His idle wanderings had taken him to the market square, cleared of all enterprise and merchandise save for one.

A woman, solitary, packing up her goods and loading them onto a hand wagon. She must have been widowed or unmarried if she had no husband or sons to help her at the market. Not even a beast to carry the merchandise- the woman was no burgher or yeoman, that much was certain.

As he approached, the woman lowered her eyes and showed obedience before the Duke.

“Please.” Guerin sighed, “Enough of that for a night.”

“If it pleases you, milord.” She lifted her head, green eyes gleaming through the moonlight. She was quite striking for one of such humble circumstances. Strands of auburn escaped her white coif and she had such full lips and a complexion that he thought she most assuredly was highborn.

Yet she just couldn’t be- not if she was slaving away by her lonesome as night approached. Guerin took it upon himself to help her, loading the merchandise onto the hand cart. Fish, mostly. She did not speak much at all, the two of them working in silence.

“How far is it?” He asked as their endeavor neared completion.

“How far is what, milord? My home?”

He nodded.

“Two leagues down to the river.” She answered. Two hours’ walk for the unencumbered… he looked over the wagon’s contents and then to her waifish frame. The Duke inhaled through his nostrils, stroking his black beard.

It would be a simple matter to fetch the horse… or enlist a man to escort her. Yet he loathed the idea of returning to that feast… and moreover, he knew not of one sober or honorable enough to trust with the woman’s dignity. They wouldn’t dare hurt her, of course… but impious men were wont to speak impious words.

“It may be dangerous for a lady to travel alone.” He said, “Much less one burdened so.”

“I am obliged to refuse, milord.” She lowered her head again, “Yet I fear… I have little choice in the matter.”

A smile stretched across his lips, the first since he set out to crush the caitiffs. This one wasn’t just fair, she was clever too. He grabbed the handles of the wagon and dragged it onto the road, letting the wheels settle into the divots of the stone.

They went along their way, as midnight came and went. He had little mind to speak of matters of the court or religion or anything related to the daily life of a Duke. She had observed this… and astutely carried the conversation to the subject of the surrounding area, promising him a good hunt in the nearby forest. She described the scenery atop Hamdon hill and the ruins of old Roman forts throughout the Scarplands.

She remembered everything so clearly, recalling it as if she was there at the moment. Not a single detail eluded her.

“I must ask.” He said, midway through their journey, “Surely this must be a jape. I refuse to believe a lady of your wit and grace could be lowborn.”

She smiled, though he could barely tell through the darkness. It was merely the way the moonlight reflected off of her cheekbones that gave it away. “That is kind of you to say, milord. In truth, the Lord has blessed and cursed me. I remember all that I see, no matter how long ago it was.”

From her tone, he wagered she had seen things she would have rather left forgotten.

“Do you read letters?” He asked.

She nodded.

Then he understood. She had been a Cathar. Not just a layman but a member of the clergy, a Parfaite who would teach the bible as a priest would. Guerin did not want to know whether or not she still held the heresy in her heart…

They continued on much more quietly for the rest of the trip, his thoughts inextricably drawn back to the subject of faith. At last they crested over the hill when the woman pointed out the silhouette of a shack by the river Yeo.

“There, milord. We’re almost there.”

He refused to let her carry the wagon- not even for a step. Even so, the Duke was relieved to see their destination ahead. As soon as they arrived, they had to pack the goods in preservatives- she would likely be at market with them again in another few days.

By the time they were done, it was closer to dawn than dusk. The Cathar had started a fire not long after they arrived and now she stood at the threshold, the warmth of the hearth behind her and the coldness of night before her.

She furtively looked to the Duke and asked, “Would you like to come inside?”

He knew it would… untoward. That consorting with heretics and women at strange hours of the night was unbecoming of a true Christian knight.

Yet still… he dared not leave her. Something implacable drew him in.

Guerin did not say a word as he entered the cottage.

He pulled a chair to the hearth and warmed himself. Given that there was no other furniture, she laid down on the floor at his side. A pang of regret tugged at him as he realized his insistence had taken her own seat… yet also he felt so very weary after the journey.

When he was a young man, he had heard so many vile things about the Catharites. Yet when he came across the channel, he found himself at times… conflicted. They shunned the waging of war, even when it came to their shores. So many preferred to be killed rather than kill.

They raised womenfolk to the status of equals in many ways and thought it sinful to bring forth new life into an unclean world. For that reason, they were so often charged as sodomites…

It didn’t seem so awful, Guerin thought to himself. Yet he couldn’t turn away from all he knew- and with the way she sat by his side, submissively differential… perhaps she had turned away from her heretical ways for good. He consoled himself with the thought.

After a while, she laid her head upon his thigh, using him as if he were a pillow.

The Duke was rigid for a while, uncomfortable with such… intimacy. Yet eventually he drew his hands away from the warmth of the fire and rested one atop her head. She rubbed her cheek against him, getting more comfortable.

He began to stir. With all his knights two leagues away and his wife at Hampshire castle even further still… the Duke thought of little outside this small riverside cottage. He stroked her head through her coif until it slid just a little bit. Curious, he pulled it back and looked upon her auburn hair in all its beauty.

She too began to massage him with her palm between his thigh and her cheek. He inhaled deeply, a heat and a hardness burgeoning in his loins. Guerin stroked his beard and swallowed the lump in his throat. Somehow sinning seemed less and less of a possibility and now more of a certainty. It was only a matter of time now… and already his mind was racing for a way to justify it before his confessor.

The Cathar rubbed her cheek to get more comfortable and though her hand lay between them, she did… shift. She was almost certainly aware of his carnal desires now. He could just tell.

The woman pulled away from his leg, looking up at Guerin. Slowly, she brought her other hand up to his knee… and parted his legs upon the simple chair. She moved closer towards him upon the floor, between his feet.

He recalled the lurid tales he had heard during the crusade- of how the Catharites disdained reproductive sex and instead preferred… other methods. Guerin was a Godly man, and a good Christian. That was what he always told himself. Never would he be tempted. Until now, he never had been.

He had only ever laid with his wife in the proper manner- for only the purpose of producing an heir. The Cathar looked up at him, her hands rising up to his breech belt and undoing it as he sat. The duke remained silent, rubbing his fingers into his palms.

His mysterious host was soon tugging on his trousers, heedless of his boots. She could not completely disrobe him without some cooperation and if there was ever an opportunity to stop this fornication dead in its tracks, it was now.

Of course, Guerin faltered. He sank lower into the chair, until his buttocks had slid off the seat. The woman pulled down his trousers a moment later, revealing to the firelight his lust.

She stared at it, her emerald eyes like a hawk sizing up its prey while Guerin himself could not tear his gaze away from her. She truly was beautiful, brown hair tinged by fire that seemed all the brighter with the hearth before them. Her cheeks were freckled, her lips soft and pouty.

The Cathar brought her hand up, wrapping her fingers around his length. He swallowed the lump that had been building up in his throat and licked his lips.

“Go on.” He commanded, asserting to himself as much as he was to her that he was the lord here. An adulterer he may have been, Guerin thought it better to be one deliberately so instead of a weak-willed man succumbing to temptation.

“Yes, milord.” She said, lowering her eyes in obeisance. He had almost forgotten the sound of her voice- and how sweet it was.

He would not hear it for a long while yet… as she bent his cock down and parted her lips. The Cathar embraced him, covering his manhood and wrapping it in the warmth and wetness of her mouth. He let out a deep sigh- relieved that their sin had well and truly begun in earnest.

She began to bob her head up and down, her lips wrapped tight around the duke’s cock. He thought it not altogether strange, this sensation… yet there was something so titillating about the sight of it- about looking down at a woman upon her knees.

His heart quickened and with it her pace. Pleasant feminine hums escaped from her lips as she pleasured him, her head bobbing and her hair swaying. Then, the most perverse thought crossed his mind- one that he immediately both loathed and loved. The Cathar, he realized, looked like she was in prayer. On her knees like this, with her eyes closed and her head lowered…

That most blasphemous thought propelled him over the edge. He let out a groan, balling his hands into fists.

“Mmh.” The Cathar’s eyes widened, her reverie broken.

Guerin came, his cock spurting in her mouth- spilling his seed. She hummed, daring not to pull away until he was done. It had been quite some time for the pious duke, and he convulsed for what seemed like an eternity. He poured into her mouth, groaning and grunting all the while until at last, the spasms stopped and he was spent.

The woman pulled away, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet limpness.

He watched her swallow, watched her slender throat as she gulped. Only then did he realize just how hard he was breathing. She stood up, patting her knees. He found himself desperate to know what she looked like beneath that simple commoner’s dress…

The Cathar looked away from him. He had a hard time imagining a woman so clever as she could be at a loss for words. No, her silence was deliberate… then he began to wonder just what had compelled her to do that? -to pleasure him in such a way?

He had a suspicion that she… feared him! That would make sense- the Cathars had much to dread about a man such as he. It would have been a simple matter to have her accused of heresy and she knew it.

She was completely at his will… his mind began to race with all the carnal possibilities that entailed. He would not have dreamt of such indignities with any lowborn Catholic lass in his fief. No, it was something about this woman being a heretic in hiding… and one so strikingly beautiful and clever at that.

Her eyes shot a glance away from him and he could tell she wanted nothing more than to be rid of his presence. Guerin was pained by this… he did not wish her to fear him- he wanted her to love him. He persuaded himself that she would learn to, in time, if he only pressed her further.

“Let us… go to bed.” He said, as casually as if they were man and wife. He could never imagine living so humbly- sleeping in such a roughspun bed here in a one-room cottage… yet now he found a certain alluring quaintness to it. He wished to lay with her in this simple abode and maybe then she would not fear him so.

Her response was the same as before, “Yes, milord.”

Guerin stood, his trousers shamelessly still around his ankles. The rest of his fine garments hung over his body, his tunic obscuring his sex now that his ardor had passed. The duke did not bother to clothe himself, stepping out of his breeches and marching over to the Cathar’s modest bed. He did not immediately retire, but rather waited for her to join him.

She picked up her coif off the ground from where he pulled it off and once more covered her fair auburn mane. Already he began to miss it… but his pining would soon be assuaged by the rest of her nakedness. The Cathar began to disrobe in front of him, shedding her plain dress and revealing to him a woman of such grace and beauty that she might rival Venus herself.

He looked upon her, slack-jawed, at her soft curves and shapely thighs. She was pale as the freshly driven snow, the freckles on her cheeks matched by a smattering upon her collar and chest. He watched the light of the fire dance across her skin and she avoided his gaze, conscientious of his desires.

Yet still the Cathar joined him, for she knew that there was little other choice. She brought with her the dress for use as a makeshift cover. Together they laid there, as if man and wife…

Neither of them could sleep very well. The woman, for the uncertain circumstances she now found herself in, and Guerin, for all the carnal desires that kept intruding upon his thoughts. 

Instead of resting, the duke embraced her. His hands wandered over her body, at one point finding the soft flesh of her bosom and squeezing it until she protested with a hushed breath. 

Before long, his arousal stirred anew. He thought himself charming- or even seductive, and pressed his manhood against her body. ‘This’ he wished to say, ‘is what you do to me, Cathar.’

The woman turned in the bed, away from him… but she reached behind her, taking his hard cock in her hand. The Cathar began to stroke it, seemingly intent on finishing him like this.

‘No’, Guerin thought, ‘Not like that. Like this.’

He grabbed her hand, pulling it off of him. His fingers remained tight around her wrist, pinning her hand to the bed… as he reached down with his other hand and grabbed his cock. Remembering that the Cathars eschewed all reproductive sex, he thought himself respectful of the woman’s faith if he merely sodomized her instead. Guerin supposed that making love to her like this, the Cathar way, would finally win her over.

He found her entrance and pushed, the woman’s soft flesh yielding to him. Now inside, Guerin grabbed her by the hip and began to thrust.

The duke, ever devout, knew not the distinction between sodomy and procreative sex. Convinced as he was that he was now penetrating her rear, Guerin thrust away without inhibitions.

He grunted in her ear, her fingers wrapping tighter around her wrist, and spurred himself on and on. He was rutting against her, his imagination conjuring up imagery of fornicating beasts. She was so very hot and tight, a sensation the duke found quite familiar indeed…

It was not long before his passion mounted and once more he neared his pleasure’s end.

With a guttural howl into her ear, Guerin came. The ecstasy raced to his head as he pressed himself as close to her as he could, pushing himself as deep into her as he could. He came, even more powerfully than when she had taken him in his mouth.

It so profoundly gratified him, to know with certainty that he poured his seed so wantonly into her rear, an act both sinful and devout… depending on where one’s faith lie.

His orgasm began to subside, and the pleasure muddying his good sense began to evaporate. The haze of lust and blasphemy faded, leaving the duke with the gradual realization that perhaps he had erred.

Of course, he knew from the beginning that he was making a tremendous mistake… but surely it was a mistake borne in good intentions, and one that would be fruitful to the spirit. All in all, it would assuredly be worth it!

Yet as they laid there in silence for the rest of the night... Guerin came to understand that she would not love him- that no woman would love a man for sodomizing her. He was merely acting out his own perverse blasphemies and deluding himself.

Though they clung to each other until dawn, he felt so very cold. His ruminations kept him from a good night’s rest and they hadn’t exchanged another word. The hearth was mere embers now and the orange glow of its fire was now replaced by rays of morning light peeking through the cracks of the cottage walls.

This entire endeavor had been a folly, Guerin realized. He crawled out of the bed, still groggy. He dressed himself as the woman remained silent and still in the bed. Then he left without saying a word.

Ten paces outside, he immediately thought of turning back to say one more thing- to look upon her face one more time. Perhaps if he said something, the right thing, she would love him.

But he already knew what her reply would be...

‘Yes, milord.’

The duke sighed, setting off to rejoin his knights at the manor.


End file.
